


Cinderharry

by mitsukai613



Series: Harry Dresden in fairy tales [8]
Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Same as ever for this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1302085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the epic conclusion to my Harry Dresden in Fairytales series, Harry is flung into Cinderella. While this happens, he finally stops being stubborn and actually talks to Johnny about his feelings, and even manages to figure out who's been making him have his dreams. He's going to have to talk to John about the 'presents' he sent him after the early dreams, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinderharry

                I kept my promise and did indeed show up at the gates to John’s (Marcone’s, I mean. I’ve noticed that I keep getting it wrong, lately. I’m supposed to call him Marcone, not John) mansion at one o’clock. The men he had at the gate greeted me and I didn’t have to fight to get inside because apparently they were expecting me. They did strip me of my blasting rod at the door, though, and they slid my rings from my fingers. They seemed to take a weird pleasure in that second part, slipping them off one by one as if it were a ritual and wearing tiny smiles the whole time. I shifted somewhat uncomfortably the whole time because this meant that John (Marcone, damn it. What’s wrong with me?) didn’t trust me despite all this. That hurt, just a little, even though I knew he had no reason to trust me. We’d always been enemies; there was no reason for him to let me into his house with weapons on me. I walled the little throb of pain, strangely similar to the one I always felt when Murphy was suspicious of me, away in the back of my head with everything else I didn’t want to see.

                Anyway, the led me up a couple of flights of stairs and down more than a couple of hallways and finally into an office. When they opened the door, I saw John (whatever, I give up. Obviously I’m too tired to care right now) sitting there behind his desk, hands settled neatly on top of a pile of papers in front of him. He gestured for me to sit in the soft leather chair in front of the desk and I felt oddly as if I was about to get fired. I blame it on his CEO look; no man should have the right to wear a black suit and a bright red tie and slick his hair back without looking like a cheesy comic book villain. John did it with pleasure, the bastard. I crossed my arms and glared and then I just felt like I was in the principal’s office again.

                “You look like a scolded teenager, Harry. We’re here for a polite discussion, not an argument.” I snorted.

                “You and I don’t do polite, Johnny, and you’re not allowed to call me that.” He let an indulgent smile slide across his face and suddenly I just wanted to punch him once, hard, for everything he’d been making me feel lately in those stupid dreams. I wanted to punch him for the kisses and for the smiles and most of all I wanted to punch him for making me like him even though I really didn’t want to.  

                “Yes, well, I’d been hoping that for a situation such as this we might start a new practice, Mr. Dresden,” he said, and I could see him putting up that cool businessman façade, I could see him closing himself off from the rest of the universe with blank eyes and a fake smile. I rubbed at my skull because that wasn’t what I wanted, this wasn’t right, it wasn’t his fault. Hell’s Bells, he probably wouldn’t have even had to suffer through the dreams if he hadn’t have known me, considering whatever was causing them was probably just trying to get me dead in some new, creative fashion. Maybe whoever it was was hoping for John to get frustrated enough with them to kill me.  

                “Sorry,” I said, and that pulled a sliver of shock from him. I took pleasure in that; it wasn’t often that I could make him react, at least not in the waking world. “I’m just… none of this is your fault, I know that, but I’m frustrated. I’m sorry. Just, look, let me make sure. You’re having the dreams too, right? The fairytale ones?” He cleared his throat a bit and I’d have called him embarrassed if I hadn’t known him as well as I did.

                “Yes,” he told me, “I have. It’s been a little over a month since they began, I believe, and they have been increasing in frequency of late.” I nodded.

                “Yeah, that’s right. Okay. Good. Well, not good, but you know what I mean. Anyway, I don’t know who’s causing them, but I’ve been hearing a voice. I recognize it, I do, but I can’t quite place it. I just know that I know her, so whoever it is that’s causing this is doing it to get at me, not you. So, yeah, it isn’t your fault. If it’s anyone’s, it’s mine.”

                “How could these dreams possibly cause you to be harmed? There seems to be nothing particularly strange or dangerous about them, for their source material.” I shrugged because I hadn’t quite worked out that part myself yet.

                “I don’t know. I’ve worried over it, a few times, figured that eventually whoever was sending them was just going to change one little thing, you know, like, make the poison in the apple kill me like it was supposed to instead of just knock me out, but then I found out you were involved for real.” He nodded.

                “When did you figure that out, by the way, and what did it change?”

                “The Frog Prince dream. I heard you talking, when we were in the bed. You said real-John stuff. I didn’t figure it out for sure until I saw your reaction at the end of the last one, though. See, now that I know you’re involved, there are two possibilities: one, whoever it is is trying to get at you too with whatever convoluted plan they’re using to get at me. Two, they’re hoping that they’ll start to piss you off enough that you’ll finally play whatever contingency plan you have for me and kill me.” I saw something nervous flicker behind his eyes for a split second before it was gone, so fast that on anyone else I’d have been unsure if I’d seen it or not. 

                “Ah. Alright. Have you managed to look into anything yet?” I hadn’t and that really surprised me. I’d been frightened by the dreams, hadn’t I? I’d been worried that they’d kill me. Why hadn’t I looked into them, then? Why hadn’t I started asking around about them? It hadn’t been embarrassment because I’d always known they weren’t mine. Why hadn’t I checked?

                “No; there’s been bigger stuff going on, and I figured they were just minor projections. I mean, I always knew they weren’t mine because my dreams are never that clear; they’re just fuzzy and usually pretty mundane. I’ll assume you usually have clear dreams, or that you asked Gard about them forever ago, right?”

                “My dreams are usually clear, yes. It seems strange to me, however, that yours are not. You seem the type to dream vividly.” I shrugged.

                “Dreams are projections of what you want,” I said, “At least most of the time. I don’t want vivid; I want mundane. See, when I dream, I dream about going out for coffee with Murphy, or sailing on Lake Michigan with Thomas, or playing D&D with the Alphas. I get plenty of vivid in real life.” He smiled just a little, the real smile instead of the fake one.

                “I suppose I can understand that. Now, do you have any suggestions as to what we do about this?” I laughed a bit and crossed my legs at the knee.

                “Well, whoever it is will have to run out of fairytales eventually.” He raised his eyebrows.

                “There are thousands of them, Harry, and many versions of the ones we’ve already seen.” I rolled my eyes.

                “I know that, asshole, I was joking. I had to study most of them when I was a kid. Practice sorting the realities from the myths and all that. Look, we’re the closest to the cause when we’re dreaming because I’ve only heard that voice when I was dreaming or just coming off of one, so we’ve got the best chance of finding who it is while we’re dreaming. I’ll sleep here tonight, okay? Or for however long it takes for us to fall into another one of the dreams. We can try to figure it out from there, okay? You can try to keep a lookout for anything that doesn’t quite fit in your part and I’ll do the same in mine.” He nodded agreeably and sat back a bit in his chair. He shifted from principal to CEO again.

                “May I ask you one more thing, Harry?”

                “If you want to.”

                “Did you mean everything you said and did in those dreams?” My heart stopped. There it was, the question I never, ever wanted to answer, and I had two choices, lie or truth. I licked my lips and he stared at my face as if he’d pull the answer from my expression.

                “Does it really matter?” I asked him, trying to buy time to think because I didn’t want to tell the truth. I didn’t want him to know that yeah, I’d started to mean it. I didn’t want him to see just how much I’d grown to like (love) him in those stupid dreams. He didn’t need to know. It was none of his business. Even though he’d been involved. Stars and Stones.

                “It does to me,” he told me, and I took a deep breath, and I lied.

                “Not particularly, then. I was just trying to get through them so I could have a restful night’s sleep. Like I said, I knew all but one of the stories, and for that one it was pretty obvious what I was supposed to do.” The hurt in his face surprised me, but he shuttered it quickly. I wondered if things would have been different if I told the truth, but it was too late to change what I’d said. I’d lied, and now I’d need to stand by that lie. He looked cold and untouchable again, like he had all those years ago when we’d met. It surprised me, how used to the relative openness he displayed around me I’d gotten. I realized that I’d never really shown him the same courtesy. I couldn’t change that now either.

                “Alright. Well, Mr. Dresden, I’ve ordered in lunch for us. I suppose we can have a quick meal and then try for a nap, yes?” I nodded and we both stood, and then I just let him lead me off towards where I assumed he had that lunch he mentioned. “Might I ask where your rings are, by the way? It’s strange to see you without them.” I blinked at him as he opened a wide door that led into a gargantuan dining room.

                “Your bulldogs took them when I came in, along with my blasting rod.” A touch of anger flashed across his face and I noticed that one of the aforementioned bulldogs was standing across the room. John crooked a finger at him and he came over, his movements an almost run.

                “Yeah, Boss?” he asked, and John lifted his chin just a bit.

                “I asked that he be treated as one of my household, did I not?” The man flushed just a little.

                “You did, Boss, but-,” Johnny cut him off with a hand.

                “Do you take the protection of all of the members of my household, or is he simply special?”

                “Sorry, Boss.”

                “Go fetch them, and they’d best not be broken.” The man left and I stared at John with barely disguised awe because he’d just thrown his power around like it was nothing and I didn’t often see that from him. Moments like that showed me, proved to me, that he wasn’t just a businessman, he was _Gentleman John_ and that he was dangerous. The man returned with my stuff and I put it all back on gratefully as I sat down and ate the take out he’d ordered from some place that I’d never eat from unless I’d recently won the lottery. We didn’t talk, and after that, he just led me up to a spare bedroom and then went to his own. It took some doing, but I managed to fall asleep, and when I awoke, the bed I was on was certainly not the one I’d fallen asleep on.

* * *

 

                It was hard under my back, and it was obviously old because whatever it was stuffed with was packed tight and pressed flat with years of use. It was hard to force myself off of it, but with sheer determination I managed it. I didn’t even pay attention to the cotton nightgown because I had better shit to deal with, such as figuring out what dream this was and finding a thread of the one who’d caused them. I grabbed the first outfit I saw, a tattered dress made more of rags than clean, new fabric, and put it on (funnily enough, it was actually pretty comfortable. I sort of liked it, honestly, except for I didn’t because I hate all dresses now, even when they’re on girls) then slipped my feet into a nice, worn pair of shoes that sat by my bed. I was at least pretty sure that I was in Cinderella by that point, though, so that was pretty useful.

                It was at that moment that a small group of mice came scrambling into my room, all of them dressed in cute little outfits. They jerked at the hem of my dress to get me to crouch, and obviously my will is at the mercy of adorable mice, so I did. They all spoke quickly, and in a slightly higher pitch than I was used to or expecting, but the voices were unmistakably those of my friends.

                “There’s a new mouse,” Michael said.

                “In a trap! He’s stuck in a trap in the hallway,” Molly yelled.

                “You’ve got to get him out, before your sisters kill him,” Murphy added. Alrighty then. I held back the snickers because they were adorable, but also because I knew they were helpful, just like Toot-Toot and his little army. Instead of the laughter I just nodded and let them lead me by the dress hem into the hallway, to where a little mouse did indeed sit, somewhat terrified in the back of a trap. I bent down and opened the trap’s door, and it shook a tiny fist at me and all the other mice around me. I really did have to laugh at that, but when I stopped I settled the trap on the ground in front of Murphy.

                “Why don’t you explain things to him, Murphy,” I said, and she nodded her head, her ginormous ears flopping around with the motion and she shouldn’t be so _cute_ if she didn’t want people to tell her so.

                “Stop being stupid, she’s saving you. Cindy-Harry looks after us, keeps us safe from her bitchy sisters. Here, I brought you clothes,” she said, pulling a little mouse-sized shirt from under her arm in addition to a jacket, a hat, and a pair of shoes. The mouse took them warily, and when they didn’t explode in his hands or otherwise do anything sinister, he smiled.

                “Thanks,” he said in Thomas’ voice, and I reset the trap in the corner so it wouldn’t look suspicious after my brother the mouse wandered out. Hell’s Bells these dreams could get weird.

                “No problem,” I said, patting his head, and he leaned into the touch so far that he nearly fell over, and I had to smile again. “Now, I’ve got, you know, chores and stuff. Keep him out of trouble, guys,” I said, and a chorus of high pitched agreements followed me as I wandered down the stairs and into a house that was truly way too enormous.

                I did eventually manage to find what I assumed was a servant’s area, included in which was the kitchen. I had to smile at the sight I found there, though, my cat and my dog piled on top of one another, each of them soundly asleep. I scratched them both before I stoked a fire in the oven and then saw a bag of chicken feed in the corner. I assumed I was probably meant to feed the chickens it went with, so I went outside and scattered it around the yard, allowing a huge clump of chickens and roosters to run up to me and start pecking at the earth. When I came back inside, however, I found what had to be the most adorable sight on the planet.

                Mister and Mouse had woken up, and my mousy friends had come downstairs. Mister was batting at Thomas lightly, playfully, and Thomas was kicking up a huge fuss, kicking at the cat’s comparatively gargantuan legs and yelling angrily that he was not to be trifled with. I smiled and once more bent down to be closer to them.

                “You all hungry?” I asked, and received answers in the affirmative from all of them, so I poured a bowl of dog food for Mouse and a bowl of milk for Mister, along with a bowl of water for them to share, and then broke up some cheese for the mice. They too shared in the water bowl and it felt like a happy family. I almost wished that I could just stay there, stay like that, but I couldn’t, so instead I just looked around the kitchen for some indication of what I was meant to do next. Eventually I managed to find what appeared to be a To Do list on one of the cabinets (I was right, by the way; feed the chickens was number one) and discovered that my next task was to make tea and breakfast for my “family”.

                I decided that complaining just then would probably be a dumb idea, so I just got out three trays and the tea making equipment, and then realized that I was finally getting a task that I was capable of doing. My malevolent entity must have thought it was my birthday.

                Anyway, I ran around the kitchen like a moron, cooking with ease on the old woodstove and making tea that I’d made a thousand times before. It was almost relaxing, really, and I appreciated the little break. The mice and my pets played around on the floor, teasingly bouncing around one another, sometimes pulling tails and whiskers and other times being kind, and it made me smile despite the sheer amount of noise that arose after a few minutes, noise from the three bells that hung on the wall, apparently to inform me that my majesties were awake and also totally deaf from ringing the bells and yelling Cinderharry so much because I _told them a hundred times that I was coming thank you very much_ and they seemed incapable of hearing me _._

                Anyway, after the issues with making the breakfast and the tea and the finally making those stupid assholes hear that I was on my way were resolved, I faced the challenge of how I was supposed to get the three trays up to their rooms. Now, I’ve been a waiter before, mind, but I haven’t ever been a _good_ waiter. See, I dropped something on somebody at least once every week, and I’d have probably gotten fired way more than I did if I didn’t have regulars who liked me and if I wasn’t willing to pay for dry cleaning. Anyway, eventually I managed to get two of the trays balanced on one arm and one on the other hand, and I walked them ever so slowly up the stairs and to the big doors that I assumed were bedrooms. I kicked the first one to get its occupant’s attention, and when it opened I saw Maeve.

                She somehow managed to look beautiful even though she was barely awake, but she stared at me with barely concealed disgust and handed me a basket of laundry. I added it to my unsteady balancing act and walked to the next room, this one occupied by Bianca, who gave me the same look and who partook in the same ritual. I glared at her silently because obviously only the biggest bitch in the universe would expect an awkward guy like me to play ballerina and carry stuff like this all over town. Anyway, I did end up managing to get the last tray to the last room, and this one was occupied by Mab. She had me settle her tray on her bedside table, and the extra time at least made it so I could settle her bag of clothes on top of one of the baskets I’d received from one of my “sisters”, thus making it way easier to carry around. She talked while I did that, though, and I could admit that I had a few complaints in that regard.

                “Your list of chores is the same as ever, child. You must do the laundry, as well as the mending, and you must tend to the gardens. You must also sweep the stairs and the balconies and make certain that the tapestries and rugs are dusted. You must, of course, also deal with the meals.” I nodded thoughtlessly because there was little else to do, and then went on my way. As I carried the bundles of clothing downstairs, Mister now trailing along after me and periodically pressing against my lower leg, I couldn’t help the stray thought that at least I wouldn’t be bored like John probably was, sitting all alone in his castle and chatting with his father about why he wouldn’t just get married already and have rambunctious little grandbabies for him. I wondered if he’d known his father or if these dreams were the only chance he got to see him, like they were for me. I’d never heard him mention parents to me before; I was a little curious now, to be honest. Maybe I’d ask him. 

* * *

 

                I was scrubbing the floors (conveniently directly in front of the front door) when someone, I assumed a representative from the castle, knocked. I stood, my knees cracking a little on the way because being so damn tall comes with its own wonderful set of drawbacks relating to joints, and opened it. Hendricks, dressed up fine in a blue woolen suit, stood on the other side, an invitation in his hand.

                “The King has requested a ball to celebrate the homecoming of his son, wherein all the eligible maids of the kingdom are to attend.” I took the invitation and thanked him. “Are you going to be showing up? I bet the Prince would like the looks of you.” I snorted.

                “I’m a maid,” I said, and he shrugged.

                “So? My girlfriend’s a stable hand and I’m a Grand Duke. What’s it matter?” I laughed.

                “Well, I’ll give it a shot, I guess. Depends on what my step mother says. I’ll deliver this to her and her daughters.” He bowed just a little, and I did the same before I remembered that he’d probably expect me to curtsy. I shut the door before he had a chance to comment on it, and went to the door through which I heard pretty piano music and a pretty voice; Maeve and Bianca, Mab in the lead. The music stopped as soon as I stepped inside, though, and Mab sneered, her back straight and stiff and her face curled wickedly.

                “I told you not to interrupt our lessons, child,” she said, voice cold as ice, and to be honest, yeah, I was a little scared of her. I’d be more of a fool if I wasn’t.

                “We got an invitation to attend a ball being held in the Prince’s honor. It says all eligible maidens have to attend, so, you know, I’ve got to go too.” I barely resisted a cringe at calling myself an eligible maiden, but I did manage it. I was pretty impressed with myself, to be honest.

                “Oh? Well then, you must go! If you get the remainder of your chores done, and if you can find something suitable to wear, of course.” I handed her the invitation with a nod, and then left and made my way upstairs. My mice friends were waiting for me and watched curiously as I dug around in a chest where I seemed to keep my clothes, and hoped to find something better than rags. I struck gold at the very bottom with some kind of ridiculous… thing, along with a sewing book that I assumed I would need to make the silly dress look not so silly.  

                “Cindy-Harry?” Molly asked, “What are you doing?”

                “I’ve got to make this thing look okay for a ball tonight.”

                “A ball? A ball! Cindy-Harry’s going to the ball! We’ll help, we’ll help! Tell us what you need, Cindy-Harry!” I squinted at the book, which seemed to be written in a foreign language. I then proceeded to babble off everything I could sort of understand, but apparently Molly and Michael knew exactly what I meant because they were nodding and seemed to know exactly what to do. I assumed that their knowledge had to do with them knowing Charity and left it at that for the sake of my sanity. It was at that point, though, that my darling dream sisters started yelling for me again, and I was therefore expected to go running.

* * *

 

                I found them in a dressing area, the both of them pitching a fit about their clothes, which I needed to fix desperately (I hoped they knew I didn’t know how to sew anything, much less evening gowns from this time period) and they threw them on my arms.

                I carried them off and worked on them, did my best and pricked my fingers more times than I’d like to admit to since my thumb didn’t fit the thimble I had, and I worked until the carriage arrived, at which point I gave them their dresses and told them that I wouldn’t be able to go. Also, I still hold that they had no reason to look so insufferably _smug_ about that. I mean, even if I didn’t have to go for the story to move on, I’d have wanted to just to wipe that damn look away. As it stood, I did my best to look hopeless and downtrodden as I made my way upstairs, Mab mocking me the whole time, even though I knew I’d have a mouse-made dress waiting for me upstairs.

                Even with that knowledge, though, the sheer beauty of it when I saw it surprised me. It was lovely despite being pink, with ruffles and bows in all the right places and it was fine to the touch. I recognized a few pieces as being discarded by Maeve and Bianca earlier and it almost hurt to know that something so pretty made of things so discarded would be destroyed in only a few moments. I dressed in it anyway, though, thanking my friends, and they hugged my ankles as best they could. I wondered what I’d done to deserve people so good to me in any incarnation as I ran downstairs, yelling as desperately as I could manage for them to wait for me.

                Everything happened quickly after that, as soon as Mab pointed out the beads around my neck pointedly enough for Maeve to recognize them as being once hers. She snarled at me and ripped them off, and then Bianca was there too, Bianca with too sharp teeth and a dress like flames, and she was tearing things too. They tore at everything, too, things that hadn’t ever even been theirs, things that had always been on the dress, and they did it without care even though they were scratching my skin, too. Eventually, once I was standing there in tatters, Mab called them off as if they were animals, and they left together. Mab told me goodnight and I just glared, panting and tired and in a mess. I didn’t bother to point out that if they really cared about the things on my dress, they wouldn’t have torn them when they took them off of me. I didn’t think it would really matter. Instead, I just walked back upstairs, my mice and my pets beside me, all of them with sad eyes.

                “Cindy-Harry should’ve gotten to go to the ball,” Murphy said, her voice angry and sharp, “She’s prettier than both of them, inside and out!” I laughed and patted her head and she didn’t even get upset with me for it. I guess the situation was too serious for us to partake in our usual back and forth whenever I did anything that could be construed as seeing her as sweet or cute or anything like either of those things.

                “Yeah! Want me to go bite them?” Thomas asked, looking way too excited by the prospect, and I laughed again and shook my head.

                “It’s okay. It’s… I didn’t really want to go anyway. We can have a good night here,” I said, and then I thought about John. John who I’d lied to. I wished, all of a sudden, that I hadn’t lied. I’d had no reason to lie; from what he’d said in the Frog Prince, he was interested too. I’d just hurt him unnecessarily, and hadn’t I promised not to do that to someone, no matter who they were? I’d been afraid, though, I could admit that. I’d been afraid of how he would react and how I would react and I’d been afraid of maybe falling headfirst into a relationship with him. I needed to tell the truth, though, I needed to be honest. I didn’t have to be with him, but I didn’t want him to think I’d been faking everything because I hadn’t. I could deal with the fallout from that when it hit me.

                “You mustn’t lie,” said Michael, and I had them all pile onto my lap. I just wanted to go tell Johnny the truth, I wanted to figure out this ending once and for all, I wanted these dreams to stop. I curled into them and I didn’t cry but my eyes got a little bit wet. That was apparently enough, though, because suddenly my room had another human (sort of) occupant.

                “Hello, sweet. Have you enjoyed my stories?” Lea asked me, a smile soft on her face, and suddenly everything made sense, suddenly everything was clear. Lea had been causing these dreams. Lea’s voice was the one I’d been hearing. Now the only question was why, and I needed to make sure I was right.

                “Lea? Are you real or just part of the dream?” She laughed and then everything except for Lea and I was frozen.

                “Both, I believe. You didn’t answer my question, by the way.”

                “No, I haven’t enjoyed them. Why are you doing this to Johnny? I can understand me, I mean, I’m partially under your dominion, but he isn’t involved with your affairs.” She cocked her head.

                “He is, actually; he is your intended, and so, by that connection, I have just enough sway over him to do this. I simply wanted you to both realize who you were to each other, what you meant. I only wanted your happiness, in truth.”

                “This isn’t the right way to do it.”

                “Oh, la. Would you have realized your feelings any other way?” I wanted to tell her to shut up, or that I didn’t have any feelings for him, but neither of those were things I could do, one because rudeness might get me dead and the other because I’d be lying and lying to one of the Sidhe was a generally terrible idea. “The both of you were suffering. I have simply alleviated that suffering as best I could. This will be the last dream I offer you; what you choose after this is no business of mine.” I looked away from her, from her golden cat eyes and her inhumanly pretty face.

                “Can we just get this over with?” She sighed.

                “Foolish child.” And then time was moving again, then she had the mice shooed off of my lap and my body pulled up straight and tall. “Let’s get you out of these rags, hm? They simply won’t do for a ball! Ah, I know just the thing!” She waved her hand and suddenly I was in a beautiful red dress, long and flowing down my body. It felt as if it were made of velvet, its neck high and draped around my collar bones, and instead of fighting me like a lot of the other clothes had, it moved with me. No matter how it pained me to say it, I felt… nice, in that particular dress, comfortable and natural. Hell’s Bells, I still felt as if I could go out and fight in it if I had to. I felt like myself instead of a character in a children’s story. The shoes, though, they were another story, I assume because I simply wasn’t allowed to be that comfortable. I was pretty confused about why I was able to put my weight on a pair of glass shoes and not get said glass imbedded in my foot, but fairytale logic is truly fascinating sometimes.

                “What is this?” I asked, fingering the long bell sleeves that nearly covered my hand. I breathed deeply and felt my pentacle shifting with my breath.

                “It was your mother’s,” she said, “my favorite of hers. It looks equally lovely on you, my child. Of course, it will be gone by midnight, however. Perhaps I’ll give you the original once all is said and done. Now, we must prepare transportation for you, yes? It’ll be gone by midnight as well, but you’ll have plenty of time to do what must be done. Come, come, outside. Bring the mice, and the dog and cat. We’ll also be needing a pumpkin.”  I followed along with her and did as she asked because it was honestly just so much easier that way. I will admit that the pumpkin I dropped in front of her might have been just a little bit spitefully rotten, but hey, I never claimed to know pumpkin freshness attributes. Anyway, once everything and everyone were settled in front of Lea (who glared at me a little for the subpar pumpkin) she waved an invisible magic wand. Nothing happened, though. I sighed.

                “Really Lea?” She smirked.

                “How did the spell go again? You really must tell me, child. Accuracy is key in these matters.” Spiteful, bitter bitch. Spiteful, bitter, _psychotic_ bitch, I reminded myself, meaning that maybe I should listen to her before she made my own damn dream kick my ass.

                “Bippity boppity boo,” I said, quiet as I could manage, and she raised her eyebrows.

                “Louder, sweet. I could hardly hear you.” Lying, spiteful, bitter, psychotic bitch.

                “Bippity boppity boo,” I said again, this time in my normal tone of voice, and she nodded.

                “Ah, yes.” And then she just waved her damn arm and everything changed into everything else; pumpkin to a carriage, mice to horses, and Mouse and Mister became a footman and a coachman, respectfully. Also, might I say that human Mister looked just as snide and scrappy and gigantic as cat Mister? And that Mouse was taller than me with really fluffy hair? And that I really wanted to pat Mouse’s fluffy hair because it was just so damn fluffy (except I couldn’t reach it now because he was so _tall_ )?  And that I was pretty sure that Mister’s hair still had gray tabby stripes in it? I should probably stop talking about my pet’s human forms, shouldn’t I? Maybe I should just move on and say how weird it was for Murphy to be the same size as all of my other friends. Ahem.

                I climbed into the carriage with Mouse’s help (why was he so tall? It was starting to bother me), and Mister snapped the reigns as if he’d been doing it his whole life and then we were off towards the castle.

                It seemed to sparkle when we reached it, far too large and ornate for the time period and so white it almost seemed crystal. Lords and ladies milled around the front door and I could see their confusion when I stumbled on the silly glass slippers as I was getting out of the carriage even with Mouse’s help. Surprisingly enough, though, none of them looked like they wanted to laugh. Instead they just seemed… amazed, or something like it, awestruck. I hadn’t ever seen that look directed at me when I didn’t have fire in my hands, so I was understandably a little bit uncomfortable as I went to the door and carefully pushed it open with all my weight. It moved slowly but easily, and closed on its own when I stepped through and into the bustling party, the brilliant gold and silver universe that had been created in the palace.

                Women stood in a line before me, beautiful women in dresses with full skirts that made me feel just a little out of place in my mother’s gown, but I figured that didn’t matter too much. Someone I didn’t know (I had a vague thought then that maybe all these nameless, faceless people I saw in the dreams weren’t so nameless or faceless to John) read names, the names of the girls, off of a long list, and they each stepped forward to their name and curtsied to Johnny. He bowed back to them and looked so painfully bored that I wondered how long he’d been waiting. If my backstage wait for the plot to progress times had been insufferable, I couldn’t imagine how bad his had been.

                It seemed he hadn’t noticed me yet, though, so I took the chance to look around. A man sat in the balcony, Hendricks standing beside him, a shorter, heavyset man with silvery hair that matched the streaks at John’s temple almost perfectly. He had annoyance set upon his face, and he had… he had green eyes, green eyes like John’s eyes but not quite so strange, not quite to his level of faded money green. I swallowed at the sight of him because something like power, like a faded threat, hung about him, hiding among the soft flesh that I could see had once been hard with muscle. It was tangled in his aura like it was in John’s, the aura of a man used to being obeyed. Yeah, they had to have royalty in the line somewhere. Or, since they were Italian, maybe some powerful merchant. It’d be really hilarious, I decided, if they were descended from the Medici’s. I’m probably thinking about that way too much. Anyway.

                John still didn’t seem to notice me, and he was currently greeting Maeve and Bianca, so I took the moment to examine some of the architecture, most especially the pretty fountain that spilled crystal water in the corner of the room (it had a merman on it that looked suspiciously like I had in the last dream. I assumed that was Lea’s idea of a joke) and I can admit that I jumped a little when I felt a hand on my arm. I did recognize the hand, though, considering I’d felt it a lot in the past month. I turned and smiled, touched his hand where it was settled on my dress.

                “Hey there, Johnny.” He smirked, just a little.

                “That’s really no way to address a prince, Harry. Lovely dress, by the way.” I curtsied, and I promise it wasn’t sarcastic in the least.

                “Thanks, it was my mom’s, at least according to Lea. That’s some good livery you’ve got there too. Looks super stiff.” He snorted and I resisted the urge to point out that that was not a very princely noise there. He went a little still, his hand stiffening around my arm almost worriedly.

                “Lea,” he asked me, whispering as if he needed to. The room was incredibly noisy with song, the man I assumed to be his father having struck up the band.

                “Yeah,” I said, “Apparently she’s the one who’s been doing all this. See, she’s always taken this weirdly obsessive interest in my love life. This is apparently her latest attempt to make me settle down with the love of my life, or whatever. I don’t know how Sidhe thoughts work. Either way, she said this would be the last one, so we’re not in any kind of life-threatening peril, I promise.” He smiled and actually looked just a little bit sad as he settled a hand on my waist and led me out onto the floor. I let him do it without protest and I could’ve blamed it on the story, but I didn’t feel like it. I was dancing with him now because I wanted to, not because I had to. I was dancing with him because he was fun and funny and because he looked weirdly handsome when he smiled. I was dancing with him because, despite myself, I’d grown to care about him. Maybe love him. I don’t like that word, though, not in a situation like this.

                “It would seem that she’d be thoughtful enough to make you the prince, give you a chance at Miss Murphy perhaps.” I shrugged; let a sharp grin spread across my face, and for some reason that made him smile too. This, I realized, was the same man who’d held my hand through Wonderland. He was the same man who’d spared me knife-quick, bold smiles when I was Little Red Riding Hood. He was the same man who’d cried when I was asleep in Snow White. He was the same man who I’d saved, who’d given me company, in Fairer-Than-A-Fairy. He was the same man who’d tried so hard to please and protect me in Beauty and the Beast. He was the same one who’d only wanted my love, my regard in the Frog Prince. He was the same one who’d loved me even when I couldn’t speak, loved me so much that he nearly drowned himself, in the Little Mermaid. Now he was just my Prince Charming, dancing with me and looking somehow like that was the simplest pleasure in the world.  

                “She probably knew I’d be bored. Annoying as the outfits were, being the princess was way more exciting than sitting around in castles like you got to do. Also, Murphy is, like, my best friend. We’d probably kill each other if we ever tried to do anything more than that. That was sort of a mutual decision we made, after we found out that our interests didn’t quite coincide.” He laughed.

                “Still yet. Surely she could’ve found you a more suitable ‘prince’ than me. Someone who would’ve made you happier.” He swept me around in a wide circle as if I didn’t weigh a pound. It almost would’ve been offensive, had I not been so fixed on stripping that bothersome sort of depression from his eyes. I shouldn’t have lied.

                “About that,” I said, “See, I might’ve been stretching the truth just a little, when you asked me about whether or not I’d meant all I’d said and done.” A hope he wouldn’t have dared to show me in the real world lit up his eyes, and he tightened his grasp on my waist.

                “Is that so?” he asked, and somehow his voice was as calm and collected as ever. I didn’t want to imagine how much practice he’d had to have had.”

                “Yeah. But only a very little,” I said, and then bent down to peck his lips. He laughed like an animal and he seemed just about ready to go for one a little more substantial, but the clock started to chime twelve and I pulled away. “Sounds like my cue. See you tomorrow, Johnny,” I said, and then I was out the door. I actually had to work to get the stupid slipper to come off on the stairs like it was supposed to as I ran back to the carriage. I only just barely made it home before everything changed back, and it really was a challenge to get upstairs to the bed without being seen, but I managed okay. Also, P.S., don’t ever try to sleep in the same bed with four mice, one cat, and a dog. It causes some really terrible fights. Especially when the cat and the dog are freakishly gigantic and one of the mice is Murphy.

* * *

 

                The next morning, Hendricks knocked at the door again, noisy and insistent. I opened it, a broom in one hand and a bundle of laundry under the other arm, Maeve and Bianca’s music lesson serving as background noise once again.

                “So, you made it last night after all,” he said, and despite his attempts, Hendricks is apparently really bad at smirking.

                “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s with the shoe?” He gave me an incredulous look that was far better than his smirk.

                “Is there any reason you’re playing dumb? The Prince wants to marry you even though you apparently have huge feet. You should be happy,” he said, and I shrugged.

                “I still don’t know what you’re saying. Let me go grab my sisters; they might be the ones you’re looking for.” He gaped as I fetched them, mostly because I was bored and wanted some entertainment. They swayed their way into the room, each of them staring hungrily at the shoe as if they owned it, and Maeve pushed Bianca out of the way so that she could sit first before she slid her own shoe off and stuck her foot out at Hendricks, who glared at me and bent down to try the slipper on her. Obviously, it was way too big. I watched her spread her toes out wide to try and make it fit.

                “It’s mine, I assure you,” she said, “I had quite a few layers on my feet last night.” Hendricks turned that blank look to her instead of me, which was vastly appreciated.

                “Aw, so close!” I said, and Mab glared at me.

                “Hold your tongue, Cinderharry.” I just smiled as Bianca sat and had the shoe slid on her foot. It was a little closer, I guessed, but it was still obviously at least three or four sizes too large on her foot. Since she had it a little closer, though, she went so far as to try and stand and walk to show Hendricks that it “fit” her and ended up falling and nearly breaking the shoe. Mab was glaring at me, then, and Hendricks was giving me the most desperate, hopeless look I’d ever seen. I finally took pity on him, kicked the worn shoe from my foot, and plopped down in front of him. He put it on my foot and, obviously, it was a perfect fit.

                “Well, will you look at that? I guess I was at that party last night after all. Wonder how I forgot?” Hendricks blinked.

                “You’re… kind of an asshole.” And then I was doubled over, I was over the moon, I was laughing hard enough that I thought I’d choke, and Mab and Maeve and Bianca were screaming various obscenities and threats to my person and insults to my parentage. Hendricks just helped me to my feet and walked me out to a carriage where Johnny waited for me, my gait unsteady in the one glass slipper and the one flat working shoe. He smiled when he saw me, and his mouth opened as if he were about to speak, but then the dream was over and I was awake in his guest bed. Apparently Lea had decided that whatever conversation we needed to have needed to be had while we were awake. To be honest, I sort of agreed.

* * *

 

                I stood from the bed and started walking aimlessly down the hallway, and in a surprisingly lucky twist of fate, John ran into me as I wandered. We then proceeded to pretend to be awkward teenagers for about ten minutes as we stood there and stared at each other. Obviously, since I’m the far more mature one, I was the one who had to break the quiet.

                “So. We like each other a whole hell of a lot more than I thought we did last month. What do you want to do about that?” He laughed loudly and I thought for a moment that I’d finally broken him after nearly a decade of extended contact with him.

                “With social skills like that, Harry, I question how you aren’t beating suitors off with that staff of yours.” I shrugged.

                “I’ve heard from my collection of two girlfriends that blunt idiot works for me. Besides, we’ve been dancing around each other in dreams for a month, so I figure direct is probably the best way to do this now.”

                “I must agree,” he said, “Come. I believe this is a conversation better suited to privacy.” So I followed him and we ended up right back in his bedroom. I noticed that the sun was setting through the window.  He sat on the edge of his bed and I did the same so I wouldn’t feel out of place. “Harry, I feel as if I must tell you that I love you,” he said, and I blinked. Those words shocked me even though I’d assumed as much, and it took me a minute to process.

                “And you say I’ve got better prospects out there,” I finally choked out, and he settled a hand on my knee. I didn’t move it and he seemed to take that as some sort of personal victory.

                “Don’t speak so poorly of yourself,” he said, “I can promise you that I’ve never met anyone half as interesting as you before. There’s so many parts of you, you see; the noble hero, the damaged soul, the nice face, the fire, the ice, the smile, the scream. You’re made of contradictions and arguments until you care about someone and then they couldn’t hope for a better friend or a warmer smile. I did not expect to fall in love with you, though. I was attracted to you upon meeting you, yes, but I expected that I’d get you in my bed and it’d be over. That didn’t happen, though. I made offers, overtures, but you simply didn’t understand. That confused me, and I got… enraptured, I supposed. I started crossing paths with you more, learning about you, and the longer you stayed that one person I couldn’t touch, the more I grew to care for you. And look at me now; you’ve made me into a besotted fool.” I licked my lips and wiggled a little where I sat.

                “Yeah, well, I’m not as eloquent as you, but I can say that there’s more to you than you want people to think too. You do bad things and I hate them. I always have. For a while I hated you; I tried to make you into an evil villain set piece because you were just so damn likable, and because you were funny. I had to because I would’ve liked you if I didn’t, and that just wasn’t allowed. See, I’d have seen you as a guy I wanted to get to know if things had been just a little different; I’d have wanted to be your friend. You made it harder to stay separate when time passed, though, especially when I saw you with little Amanda. You turned human all of a sudden and you turned into that man I liked just as suddenly. It scared me, and when the dreams started, I got more scared. That’s why I avoided you for a while, and why I resented you for a while too. Now, though… John, I still can’t say I can just forget about what you are, about the Gentleman, but I’m willing to try… this. Try something. I can’t even call you Marcone anymore.”

                “I must say that I’d like the same, Harry. If you are willing to try this, try me, I would be forever grateful. I want to try as well. I love you,” he said again, and I shut my eyes and went for it because it’s always easier to try something new when you can’t see what you’re doing. I leaned sideways towards him and let him hold me and it felt like it always had, it felt real and natural and perfect and I smiled when I kissed him again. He settled his hands on my hips and pressed his thumbs into the hollow of them so he could maneuver me around to sit sort of on his lap. Everything fell way out of my control after that, though, fell fast into territory that I’d never even looked at much less stepped onto. John seemed to know plenty for the both of us, though, so I let him move me how he wanted and just concentrated on the familiar press of his lips on mine.

                He twisted me around to lie flat on his bed, head sort of propped on the pillows, and his hands moved to work my shirt up and off. During this he had to stop kissing me and that had me feeling totally out of my depth instead of mostly out of my depth, so I bantered to make myself feel more comfortable.

                “Are you sure you know how to do this when you can’t rip my bodice off, Johnny? Must be a new experience for you.” He huffed a laugh into the hollow of my throat, and pressed a kiss down after it.

                “I suppose that there’ll be plenty of time for bodice ripping later. As it stands, I’d love to see you in your Alice dress again, perhaps clean this time. You were quite fetching. Or perhaps the one from tonight; you were lovely, really, incredibly so. Perhaps I’d take you dancing in reality, let everyone in the real world see what a pretty piece I’ve gotten.” I rolled my eyes as he kissed down my chest, rolled my eyes even as I arched up into the movement of his mouth against places I hadn’t even known were so sensitive, and spoke again.

                “You haven’t gotten me yet, John,” I said, and then I thought of something. “Wait a fucking minute. Hell’s Bells, you sent that damn thing, didn’t you? And the flowers!” I’d almost forgotten about the packages I’d gotten, until he mentioned the Alice dress. He looked closer to sheepish than I’d ever seen him.

                “I assure you that I have absolutely no idea as to what you are referring to.” And then he bent down and bit at my nipple and a groan fell from my lips instead of the accusatory words I’d been going for.

                “We are so talking about that later,” I grumbled, “Mostly about how the hell you managed to get one in my size. Don’t answer me, by the way. You’ve got better things to do.” He chuckled, then licked down my chest, my belly, until he reached my jeans. His fingers were deft as he undid the button and slid them down my hips with ease (I’d probably need to buy jeans that fit me now) along with anything else I happened to be wearing. They ended up somewhere in the floor where I promptly stopped caring about them and instead decided that my thoughts would be better spent on figuring out how in hell to best remove a suit in the shortest amount of time.   

                I went for the, “just pull on it until it’s elsewhere” approach, but (and this is going to be a huge surprise) it didn’t work. He ran a hand, much larger than I’d thought until it was on my skin, spanning wide across my chest, down my body and settled it heavily across my hips. I kept pulling on his suit jacket, and he finally sighed and used his free hand to pull my hands away, press them down over my head. I wiggled under his grasp and glared up at him because he was still dressed and I wanted him to not be. I might get a little stupid when I’m about to sleep with somebody. You know, just in case you hadn’t figured that out from my masterful attempts at suit removal. Why did he have to wear suits anyway? I wore clothes that were easy to put on and take off. He probably spent, like, an hour in the morning putting those things on. He didn’t seem inclined to let me go and continue my attempts, so I wiggled again, this time adding a jerk of my hips to see if I could dislodge the arm he’d settled there. He actually had the gall to laugh.

                “You haven’t got any idea what you’re doing, have you?” I looked away a little because I didn’t like admitting to being lost, in over my head, even when I was, and I definitely was now. He’d have pulled my face back to look at him if he’d had a free hand to do it. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. I can promise that any inexperience on your part will not bother me.” I took a deep breath to settle my voice and spoke again.

                “How does me not being able to remove your over complicated suit when you have me pinned to a bed imply inexperience?” I tried to sound more confident than I felt, but it didn’t quite work because Johnny only moved the hand on my hip just slightly to close it around my dick and a hiss of air slid between my teeth along with a strangled sort of noise I’d never admit to. It had been a while, okay? Shut up.

                “It doesn’t. This, on the other hand? I’m afraid it does. Again, this isn’t to say I’m displeased in any way.” I stuck my tongue out even though he was moving his hand and my hips were moving with it, even though I felt good and relaxed and comfortable, because life just wasn’t as much fun when I couldn’t be a childish asshole at Marcone.

                “Yeah, well, some of us were busy bailing hay while everyone else was off experimenting. Bastard.” He chuckled and dropped his hold on my cock, and it was actually a challenge to not tell him just exactly what I thought of that, but I managed, mostly because whatever pride I had left was refusing very staunchly.

                “I say again that I don’t mind at all. Really I’d probably be more upset if you’d done this often.” I raised my eyebrows and felt his hand creeping down, like it had in the Snow White dream, and my legs fell just a little limp. I realized then that he was distracting me, that for probably the first time he wanted me to mouth off at him. The hand moved suddenly, though, up towards my mouth.

                “You do know I’m not actually a virgin, right? You’re not saving me from dragons or something stupid like that.”

                “I had assumed as much, yes, at least in regards to sex in general. I’m quite certain that you’ve never done this before, however. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.” I wiggled my fingers and shrugged, then pushed up my hips just for the hell of it and heard him let a tight groan fall from his mouth as I pressed against his arousal. His eyes were shadowy with lust, the money darkened to emerald, to marble chips.

                “Nah, you’re right. Once again, I figured out Tab A and Slot B pretty much the moment I realized that I wanted to figure out Tab A and Slot B, and I did it with one person. I spent the majority of my teenage and college age experimentation years working on a farm and then doing odd jobs in a city that doesn’t approve of many people who don’t have a college degree.” He smiled and kissed me one more time, softly, and then spoke one more time, his fingers prodding where his mouth had just been.

                “Suck,” he told me, “That’ll help.” And for some probably insane reason I trusted him, so I opened my mouth and did it. It was a strange, foreign sensation, but not really bad, so I just did it. He had this almost rapturous look on his face while I did it and I couldn’t help but feel important and attractive and all bright and shiny new under his gaze. He pulled them away with sudden, jerky force, and they were back down where they had been pretty quickly. He was finally forced to let go of my wrists so that he could get himself positioned comfortably. I pretty much expected what was coming, at that point, but when he slid a finger inside me I still jumped, my toes curling and a gasp falling from between my spit-slick lips. He let a tight smile cross his face, his own muscles looking so tight that I was a little surprised he wasn’t cramping. He prodded around and suddenly pressed against something that surprised me with the pleasure of it, surprised me so much that my back was arching nearly off the bed and his hand was pressing down in the center of it to get me to still.

                “Hell’s Bells,” I mumbled, “Do that again.” He chuckled but shook his head, his new free hand going to finally loosen and remove his tie, undo the buttons of the suit jacket.

                “I’m afraid not. You’re bad enough on my blood pressure as it is. I’m in no way attempting to make it worse.” I cackled as his silken jacket slid from his shoulders with a soft whoosh, and then another finger slipped into my while I was distracted by him undoing his shirt buttons. My legs fell open a little more, and he took advantage by stretching the fingers a little wider. He still steadfastly avoided that one spot, though, even when I started trying to wiggle in the right direction to get him to do it. He finally got his shirt off and elsewhere, and I took a second to admire him. For a guy of however old he actually was (I really needed to ask one day), he was fit. His hand finally undid the buttons of his pants as he put in a third finger and spread those wide too, so wide I was sort of screaming sort of groaning, but he didn’t take those off. Instead he just pulled his dick out and I can admit that I stared at it just a little. Not because it was particularly impressive or anything, just, you know, it was there. He held himself in that free hand and worked at me with the other, his eyes still hazy and lost, and I was moving with him almost subconsciously, my hands still held over my head even though now I could move them whenever I wanted.

                “Well, aren’t you just so good at multitasking?” I asked, and he chuckled again, breathless and open, and I wanted to kiss him again but I couldn’t reach to do it.

                “I suppose. Will you do something for me, Harry?” Well, he’d been doing pretty much everything so far, and I was well on my way to coming, so I figured I could probably manage doing something for him in return.

                “What do you want? I can try,” I said, and that was honestly pretty much the best I could offer. He let himself grin again, wolfish and wild like the Big Bad Wolf he’d played, and my muscles twitched sporadically. He slid his fingers out and that upset me way more than I would have ever thought something like that would.

                “Will you suck me?” he asked, and I found myself nodding, rolling over and getting my mouth where it needed to be, without really thinking about it. He looked almost as shocked as that made me feel.

                “I can’t promise it’ll be any good, but yeah, okay,” I said, and then I just sort of went for it. I mean, that had always worked for me so far, so I figured it couldn’t hurt with this. So long as I didn’t bite him or something in my haste, because I didn’t think he’d appreciate that. I settled my hands on his thighs and went down as far as I could, carefully working my tongue where I could and sucking as best as I was able. One of his hands settled on top of my hand, and the other curled into the hair on the back of my head, loose but there, loose but certainly able to get a whole hell of a lot tighter if he wanted. I had a vague thought that I needed a haircut (again) and I then proceeded to do something that made him jerk once, lightly, on the clump of hair he was holding. I did it again and he provided the same reaction, this time with the addition of a low moan. I felt like a man coming across a treasure trove, and I sort of chuckled around him. That got me the same reaction, only more exaggerated, and I hardly got to try anything else before he pulled me off with a wet sounding noise. I licked my lips and tasted salt. “Was I that bad at it?” I asked, and he shut his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh.

                “Christ, Harry, no. I’d like to get you off too, however, and if you make me come now I’m afraid I’ll be quite useless to you for some time.” Oh. Uh. I bit my lip and didn’t talk and he was lowering me back onto my back. I wondered if I should feel flattered as he picked up my legs and folded them up towards my head (huh. I hadn’t known I was that bendy. From the look on his face, he didn’t have much of an idea that I was either) and I felt the head of his dick at my ass. I did my best to relax, but to tell the truth I don’t know how well I did at it. I mean, there are some things that you just can’t relax for, at least not totally. He rubbed his thumbs into my thighs gently, a soft massage, as he slowly pressed forwards and into me.   

                “Stones,” I murmured, and then he was in, and I felt strange and good and a little like I was floating despite the almost painful stretch and burn of it. His chest was heaving and the fabric of his pants scraped at the skin it touched. “You’re taking your pants off next time,” I said, doing my best to move with him as he pulled out and thrust back in even though I didn’t have much leverage in my position.

                “Next time?” he panted, “I suppose I ought to feel flattered.” I huffed out a laugh, and then suddenly his hands were wrapped tight enough to bruise around my hips and he was thrusting hard and fast and he hit that spot and I really did scream. He slowed back to a crawl just as suddenly and looked apologetic, his hands loosening, and I groaned. “I’m sorry. I got a bit… I forgot that I was attempting gentleness.” I rolled my eyes.

                “What do you think I am, scumbag? Screw gentleness, do that again.” He looked shocked at me, gaping a little (and some of that might have been from the fact that I was calling him a scumbag when he had his dick in my ass) but he didn’t speed up again. If anything, he went slower, a drag out and then a slow, slow, slow push back in, just barely touching that place before he moved away.

                “Perhaps if you ask me nicely,” he said, and god, but he was a bastard.

                “Is, ‘if you don’t start moving right now, I’m going to roll us over and do it myself’ nice enough for you?” In response, he just fucking _stopped._ Like, entirely. I squirmed and writhed a little underneath him to see if that would incite him to, you know, do something, but apparently his iron control extends to this too. I tried to grab at my dick and just do it myself, but he swatted them away.

                “Nicely,” he said, and I glared and totally didn’t pout, no matter what he said later. I made an attempt to force him up and over, but he was a whole lot heavier than me and he didn’t want to move from where he was, so he didn’t. My dick twitched, apparently annoyed with me. I forced my pride down my throat and opened my mouth instead.

                “Please?” I asked.

                “Please what?” I wanted to slap him almost as much as I wanted him to just move again. He seemed not very inclined to do either and I was certainly not inclined to say whatever it was he wanted me to say. He bent forward, carefully moving my legs down again so that we were lying almost chest to chest, and that made him move just so, and he was pressing into that place, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been planning on doing this ever since he found that spot. I tried to move my hips so I could get just a little more stimulation on my own but he was too heavy for me to make it happen. “Ask me to fuck you, and I will. I’ll do whatever you ask me to do so long as you ask it of me nicely.” I shut my eyes and he had me open them again because he couldn’t make anything easy.

                “Please fuck me,” I said, “Like you were before, hard. Please.” He still seemed not quite ready to do what I wanted, so I tried something else. “Please, Mr. Marcone.” Well, that worked. I knew it did because in seconds he was snarling on top of me, flashing white teeth at me and moving fast and hard enough that the bedframe hit the wall every time he thrust into me. It was all over too soon after that, with a few hits to that place, a few twists of my dick, and a flash of white light behind my eyes. I came hard and I was loud and he fucked me through it, lasting not much longer than me before his teeth were clamping down hard on the juncture of my neck and shoulder. It was almost too hot inside me when he came, and he fell limp on top of me after. I felt a little blood dripping where his teeth had been when he let go and pressed a wet kiss to the hollow of my throat. I clumsily patted his back, which was just a little bit damp with sweat, as he slid out of me. He didn’t roll off of me, though. He was warm, anyway, so I guess I couldn’t really complain. It was sort of like he was pretending to be a really heavy blanket.

                “Blood pressure, Harry,” he murmured, and I laughed again.

                “What, too old to handle me?” I questioned, fluttering my eyelashes, and I felt him smile against my skin.

                “Certainly not. May I ask if you still have that dress you were sent?”

                “I burned it.” He actually looked disappointed.

                “Too bad. Perhaps I’ll order you another one; you’d look very pretty bent over my desk in that.” I made some sort of squawking noise, I can admit to that, and I tried to talk, but he shushed me. “Go to sleep. I’ll clean us up in a few moments.” I wanted to argue with that, really I did. I wanted to call him an old mafia pervert (because that’s such a good insult) and rage and do all that stuff like I normally would, but honestly, I was pretty much dead to the world.

                “Love you, Johnny,” I did at least manage, and he smiled into my skin one more time.

                “And I you, Harry.” And that was that. All those stories, none of them ours, all that turmoil, and we’d gotten here. We’d gotten warm and snug and pleased in his bed, and I couldn’t say that made me unhappy. Stars and Stones, Lea sort of even deserved a thank you. I went to sleep with a smile on my face, then, and I didn’t dream.

                I’ll leave you with this nice little P.S., yeah? John really likes me in a dress. Lea made good on her promise to give me my mother’s dress (slightly altered to fit me, of course) and when she heard about how much he liked them, she sent us a whole box full of all the ones I’d worn in the dreams plus a few extra. I’m still trying to find a way to catch them on fire because John keeps them in a warded closet that I can’t break into without triggering an alarm. I guess the fact that that’s our main point of contention means that we’ve got a pretty good relationship, but you simply don’t understand how annoying it is to be John Marcone’s fairytale princess. It really is too bad that I love the bastard.

              


End file.
